Poetry

  The Moon, torn from the Sun, her only lover, Rose, starry-eyed and weeping beams of light, A mourning widow left to wisp and hover, A torturously pitiable sight, Wan from the strain of sobbing...

After the Rain After the rain, it’s time to walk the field again, near where the river bends. Each year I come to look for what this place will yield— lost things still rising here. The farmer’s...

all poetry by Bruce Dale Wise The Captive Caesar by Aedile Cwerbus Though it was many years ago, millennia, in fact, it seems, like yesterday, when Caesar's ship-trip was attacked. He had gone off to...

Bucket-Kicking Musings “Let us live so that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.” —Mark Twain When my mortal coil has shuffled off, I’ll not lie in the buff; I’ll rock a chic...

The Devil at Woodstock I was a mere sixteen that Summer day We all piled in a beat-up car and drove To Woodstock, or someplace we had been told That a great spectacle was to occur— An earth-shaking...

Beyond Scientism Old wives’ tales, humble kin of ancient lore, Like road signs carved in stone are durable. Traditionists are deemed incurable By bright authorities who can’t ignore A single...

Gray I feel a certain loyalty to gray. Gray days, gray sweaters, cars - gray everything. Gray soothes and calms. It doesn’t boast, or fling itself before you like some shades do (they know who they...

  One interesting question is ‘why poetry, specifically?’ I am currently writing an ‘epic’ called The English Cantos, and I have chosen to write my epic in terza rima. There are many forms of...

Faith I'm pond scum, someone said today. Some soup primordial, in a bay was struck by lightning. Oh, I see I'm wrought by electricity... then, look! it’s a bacterium who, in a deep delirium, decided...

Ned’s Revision Ned Kelly was an outlaw, of humble Irish stock; Born to Australian parents who farmed a rural block. Assault at fourteen years of age drew police attention, And further charges followed,...

  Do I remember him? How could I fail To think of that tender boy, handsome and hail, Zealous and hearty, his muscles in tone, Who once climbed these ancient hills, cycling alone? He’d...

An ode to Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750) Sebastian: from Greek “venerable” I touch the pages of your music. Then My thoughts transport to times and distant sounds Where you once dwelt. I think of...

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  From A Gallery of Ethopaths Ethopaths fear, as much as cancer, A straight, unvarnished, simple answer. They love the euphemistic chatter That clouds up an essential matter. Seeing things clearly...

  Two Laws In this imperfect world who suffers less: A good man wrongly jailed with conscience clear? Another whose low deeds he can't confess Though from man's laws he nothing has to fear? The...

  Two mass shootings took the lives of twenty-nine this afternoon. Fifty-one (at least) were injured, every life cut short too soon. Exiting a downtown bar or looking for a loaf of bread, Simply...

A Clerihew is a four-line comic poem with a rigid rhyming scheme, aabb, but no metric requirements. It stands in stark contrast to the strict metric requirements with no rhyming scheme in the Iliad. This...

  Giacomo da Lentini is a Sicilian who is generally considered the creator of the sonnet. This translation is by Leo Zoutewelle.   I’ve seen it rain on sunny days And seen the darkness flash...

"Antaeus, the son of Terra, the Earth, was a mighty giant and wrestler, whose strength was invincible so long as he remained in contact with his mother Earth." —Bulfinch's mythology Blessed Gaea, Mother...

"Made in China" “Made in China” reads the label— Shattered on the coffee table: Some cheap and broken plastic toys We purchased for our girls and boys— Imports purchased which enable Labor...

Poet's Note: These five sonnets and song are the product of a four-week journey taken in June to Ireland and through west central Scotland and the Inner and Outer Hebrides. Unlike the sonnets, the lyrics to...

Roots in the Sky, Boots on the Ground: Metaphysical Poems C.B. Anderson, Kelsay Books, 107 pages paperback, ISBN-10: 1949229688 2019, $17.00 by Carol Smallwood Smallwood: Joseph S. Salemi commented on...

  The Teacher to His Students The traffic light turns green. Your car won’t budge. You’re either texting or completely blind. And when you do proceed, you’re slow as fudge. You’re still...

A Haiku My mirror shatters and what most clearly matters remains to be seen.   You and Me Some sins do not offend Our Lord - in fact with mine, I think He’s bored. But sadly though, I must...

Dust My soul clings to the dust. Ps. 119.25 How like the dust my soul can be. I see it sometimes, dazed and inattentive in a ray of light, or settled in a thin coat on a table, waiting languidly to be...

  Theseus Amazed Around corners through archway and gate Sensing forever the enemy’s mind Poised to avenge the innocents’ fate But a mirror was all I did find.   The Adept A handful of...

  inspired by John Masefield’s “Sea-Fever” (1902) I will go down to the bush again, where the days hang crisp and clear, And cicadas hum their sonorous song from places far and near; Where...

  The Woke Man’s Person’s Burden "Virtually no idea is too ridiculous to be accepted, even by very intelligent and highly educated people, if it provides a way for them to feel special and...

Króliki (Rabbits) dedicated to Tommy Robinson, who was recently sentenced to more time in prison Króliki they called us (Polish having no word for guinea pig)* and so we were: scared, little white...

  a modified English Alexandrine An ancient apple tree in my unkempt backyard Has skin pocked like the moon by savage nature’s wrath. The top is bare and broke, curled like a parched...

Believe It True That you have made my world a wondrous garden Fair with your lips, and glad with your eyes of blue That you have wakened life’s song of gladness Believe it true, dear, believe it...

Pablo Neruda on the Passing of Joseph Stalin by Wibele Escudar We must be men. That is the law that Joseph Stalin left. Sincere intensity and concrete clarity are best. He was the noon of man. Let us...

  Soaked in silence, sunbeams through the shutters, dust floating softly. Stuffy, flecks of mold and rust sticking here and there, a gentle draft. The glow makes all things appear the same as...

  As fiddle lilts its rhymed refrain it harkens an angelic past. If only we could now regain that sweet voice that was ne'er surpassed. Med'eval times, when hearts were chaste and men of honor...

She Walked in Beauty a tribute to Gao Rongrong* after Lord Byron’s “She Walks in Beauty” She walked in Beauty, pure as light— Like sun and moon and starlit skies Illuminate the darkest...

Sonnet IV. Cleve Backster whose work on plant perception gained wide exposure in the 1973 publication The Secret Life of Plants. While people claim the fetus has no being Worth enough to trump a...

  The taxi driver took us down From great Mohonk, New Paltz and such; And every mile we got to touch We felt the pull of New York town. And chatting in our easy way— He black, me white, what...

—from A Gallery of Ethopaths The bookshops that we used to see Were citadels of literacy. Classics of grace and wit and style Greeted your glance in every aisle. Today, those humane texts are...

Natura Naturans “Off with their heads,” the Red Queen said. But she was mostly talk. A true decapitator is The little sharp-shin hawk. I saw one once, a blue-bolt shot, To seize a thrush in...

The Thoughts of a Dog What really does go on inside the mind Of the domestic dog? To simply say They think of very little else all day But eating what they’re given, what they find To feed on would be...